“If I Were a Rich Man”

Fiddler on the Roof is one of the classics of musical theater. Set in 1905 Tsarist Russia, it features a milkman named Tevye, a member of a Jewish community who faces conflicts in his life, both within his family from his wife and daughters and from the authorities who, by the end of the play, will order the expulsion of all Jews from the area. Toward the end of the musical, or the movie if one watches the film version, there is the pathetic movement of the refugee Jews leaving what was their homeland, carrying and dragging and pulling and pushing their few meager belongings. However, with all its sadness, the story is a delightfully funny study of human relationships.

The story is based on Tevye and his Daughters (or Tevye the Milkman and Other Tales) by Sholem Aleichem. Tevye is the father of five daughters, three of whom are of marriageable age. He has been married to Golde since they were young and the two of them have not accomplished much in life, monetarily. The show in its most early scenes shows Tevye, the local milkman, delivering milk. His horse is lame so he is shown pulling the milk cart himself. Speaking to himself, deploring his lot in life, he asks God, who would it hurt “if I were a rich man?” He then breaks into a song by that title, “If I Were a Rich Man.”

If he was a rich man, of course, he “wouldn’t have to work hard.” More than that, he’d “build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen, right in the middle of the town.” That house would have “one long staircase just going up, and one even longer coming down, and one more going nowhere, just for show.”

Poignantly, he also thinks of his wife, Golde. “I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man’s wife with a proper double-chin. Supervising meals to her heart’s delight. I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock. Oy, what a happy mood she’s in. Screaming at the servants, day and night.”

Then he turns the song to the most important thing he could enjoy, if only he were a wealthy man.

The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like Solomon the wise.
“If you please, Reb Tevye…”
“Pardon me, Reb Tevye…”
Posing problems that would cross a Rabbi’s eyes!

And it won’t make one bit of difference if I answer right or wrong.
When you’re rich, they think you really know!
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.

And I’d discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.

I can relate to Tevye. Who would it have hurt if I were a rich man? I, too, would live in a fine tall house with three staircases, one for “up”, one for “down” and the other just to look at. I’d have ducks and chickens and geese in the front yard, making noise as if to say, “There goes a wealthy man!” And, like Tevye, people would think I was smart. I could discuss the holy books with the learned men of town and I might even get a choice seat at church. And, I might be consulted in order to give my opinion about issues which matter.

I once attended a rich man’s funeral. A large crowd showed up to share their grief with the hundreds of people who filled the sanctuary to capacity. I told someone I didn’t know he was a member of the church which he so loved and worked so hard to carry on his own shoulders. Eyes rolled with a simple declaration, “He was on the rolls.”

Ah, yes, I thought, as I tried to think of six people who would care enough if I died that they might serve as pall bearers.

If I were a rich man,
ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum.